Waste of Ink
by spinlight
Summary: Just a place where I'm going to dump all my drabbles that are floating around or I write and never come back to. Will contain a lot of different pairings and character pieces.
1. Seconds

**Title:** Two more seconds

**Pairings:** Gibby.

**Summary:** Gibby saves the world.

**Word count:** 834

//

He had two more seconds and it was all over; the world would come crashing and falling around them and he'd be left in the ruins, surrounded by dust and debris with the weight of an arduous guilt on his shoulders. No, he just couldn't let that happen. The boy swallowed down the conviction rising in his throat, a rush of adrenaline surging through his body.

Two more seconds, that was all the time he needed.

Gibby cowered behind the couch, breathing measured -- slow and steady wins the race. Or in this case, saves the world. His knees pushed into the floor painfully, keeping him held up right but still concealed by the sofa. He had been in this position for days, bidding his time. And for why? Well, there was an evil and mad; terribly mad genius on the other side of this piece of furniture with his finger on the button. And not just any button, because if it was just any button, then a boy of Gibby's talent and skill wouldn't be assigned to such a trivial mission. It'd probably be like an eighth grader or something. No, what made this a matter of grand importance was that this button was attached to a device capable of blowing up the world.

Yeah, seriously chizz right there.

A noise emitted into the air. It sounded like the malevolent cackling of an arch villain alright. Okay, now is the time to strike, he can feel it in his bones. The spikey haired secret agent leaped to his feet, hands gripping at the thin fabric of his tuxedo tee shirt and ripping the material from his upper body to expose his amazing (non-built) chest. In his true element, Gibby was never more ready. His voice rang out strong and confident into the living room as he stared down the evil and mad genius, his eyes boring into the mop's very wooden soul.

"Drop the device, Dr. Mophead. I'm here to take you in."

The mop didn't move. Gibby nodded.

"You're silence doesn't intimidate me, I've been through worse. This is nothing compared to the time I fought the wicked Ivan Ironing board." He paused, holding his most suave and assertive pose. "You have two options. One, you surrender now and I don't have to beat you into submission. Or two, we get rough and rowdy."

The mop didn't move, yet again.

"I see you've picked option two. Okay, fine. It's on like Donkey Kong." As he spoke, Gibby defied gravity itself and jumped the two feet into the air, over the couch and landed on the comfy cushions before diving at the mop (who was dressed in a lab coat and had a television remote control taped to it's wooden body). The two, one being a human boy and the other being an inanimate object, fell to the ground brutally and fought for control of the device and the state of the world by proxy. And what a fight it was. At first Gibby was on top, but then the mop got the upper hand. Not to be outdone, Gibby turned them over again. The whole climactic epic went on for about two minutes before Gibby's mom walked into the room, intent to find out what the commotion her son was making, was all about.

She stood there, hands on her hips and brows arched with question. "Gibby, what are you doing?"

"Saving the world, ma`." He grunted out, mid battle.

Question turned to endearment, a tenderness reserved for her son as she shook her head. "Okay, well. When you are done wrestling with the mop, dinner is ready."

What was that she said? There was a rumble in his stomach when his ears perked up at the mention of dinner and after watching her leave the room, Gibby laid there motionless with the mop on top of him. It took a few seconds before he made his decision and he pushed the cleaning tool off of him, getting to his feet. He took three steps to the kitchen before turning around and coming back. Leaning down, he ripped the remote control from the mop's body and put it in his pocket.

With a victorious grin, he dusted off his shoulders, looking down at his fallen foe before strutting out of the room. He called over his shoulders.

"All in a days work. There is a reason they call me the bes- Hey mom, you got the shell kind of macaroni right?"


	2. Fool

**Title:** Fool.

**Pairings:** Carly/Sam; Freddie/Shelby – Carly/Freddie.

**Summary:** Carly watches Freddie and Shelby.

**Word count:** 437

//

Carly can't breath, her lungs constricted so severe while she sits there, Sam nestled into her side. The tv is blaring but it goes unnoticed, her eyes holding steady and locked onto Shelby and Freddie leaning against the kitchen counter and one and other.

Only one sound rises above the static of noise in the apartment and that's the tall brunette girl's contagious laugh as she smiles so widely at something Freddie just said to her and he truly lights up so bright that it's blinding while he looks at the young MMA fighter like she's the only girl in the room.

Carly remembers when he use to breath only for her.

Not the case anymore. His never ending, always forever love bloomed so elegantly in their youth but all she had to do was wait it out and like with everything else, this flower of affection wilted and faded away. No one knows the name for it but time and her constant refusal blanketed a cold winter over his feelings and with no nourishment, things are forced to die away.

Her and Sam's new relationship was the last straw, the real nail in the coffin for the reality in which Freddie Benson becomes Carly Shay's second husband. Things changed the day they told him, she knew they would. His eyes seemed a deeper, darker shade of brown and she conceitedly wondered if it was because his smile didn't quite reach that high anymore to shed light there.

Freddie drapes his arms over Shelby's shoulders and she sinks into his body even more.

Carly should have been happy when Freddie told her Shelby actually agreed to go out with him but she was mostly awe struck and confused, assuming that it was implausible and she sort of definitely thinks that makes her a terrible best friend. The only thing that lessens the sting of said thought is when Sam found out, she said: _"Holy chiz, is that chick doing hardcore drugs now?"_

He's happy with Shelby.

She's happy with Sam.

Everything is wonderful and as it should be except for that itch at the back of her throat that keeps her swallowing harshly whenever she sees him with her.


	3. Progress

**Title:** Progress

**Pairings:** Sam/Freddie

**Summary:** It's progress, right?

**Word Count:** 685

//

He's watching her and she's looking right through him.

They're connected at the hands, the feel of soft skin rubbing together and causing friction and sweat and a lifeline to hold onto, something to either pull yourself out of the devouring quicksand that can be life or to tug the other person forward and let them sink with you. You know, just as long as you're never alone. It's the small comforts like that, that keep people going.

He wonders when he became so morose.

They move together through all the commotion. You know, the kids cheering, crying, screaming, running, yelling, smiling, laughing, living. They move through each cogent turn and row to this indefinable, endless something. It's Halloween and Seattle was the backdrop but it's fading and vanishing away now, the colors bleeding out and leaving them with hollow outlines in the dark. They're on their way to some party being thrown by some kid looking to make a name for himself because there is always some kid and there is always some party and they loop into one and other to form the teenage circle of life and death.

Step after step leads them on. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a hard candy wrapped in vivid and colorful plastic from her small stash. When they pause nonchalantly on the street corner and she pops the sweetness into her mouth, unruly blonde locks shift and rearrange them self as she looks up. Bright and blue and never ending, always shining find his dark and russet and full of warmth wrapped in confusion.

Something life changing is about to happen.

"You got the time?" She asks.

Life (not so) changed.

Movements smooth, his free hand finds his phone and a tiny glowing screen lets him in on the big secret.

"9:36" He informs.

Her eyes hold for a second longer than usual. She inspects and dissects him until she finds what she's looking for and then she smirks.

Smirk, grin, smile.

You know, it's all basically the same facial expression with her.

He feels his knees go weak but they don't give out, instead they continue to carry him forward until the two arrive at the scene of the would be crime. It's a nice house in a nice neighborhood. It's many different rooms filled with student bodies (the bodies of students that is). It's lame costumes, overwhelmed music acting as background static to the trailing conversations and purposely spiked punch. It's very what you'd expected and yet welcomed at the same time.

They find Carly chatting up some Jonas brother and a few people out back. It's only seconds after they walk up that the girls dive headlong into animated conversation, inviting him in a few times. He declines though, he doesn't have much to say tonight and he's comfortable with that and it must be noticeable because they don't push him on it.

After a few minutes, she leans into him (hands still intertwined) for shelter against the faintly biting autumn winds and maybe some other reasons not always (more like never) voiced. Her free hand pulls out more hard candy and she offers him one by holding it over her head right in his face.

He grins and takes it.

She shows no acknowledgment of her actions.

It may not be life changing but Sam Puckett did just willingly give him some of her candy so it's a small step forward and pending there aren't any two large steps back in the near future.

It's progress.


	4. Distorted

**Title:** Distorted

**Pairing:** Sam.

**Summary:** Sam is unbreakable.

**Word count:** 358

//

Being Sam Puckett.

It's a very weird and sometimes brutal experience. Sometimes it's more effort than she thinks she's capable of but then Carly asks her a question, watches her with those dancing eyes, oh so fucking innocent and filled with all that's right in the world and she swallows back the doubt in one harsh gulp, tells herself to suck it up and keep the happiness, the nonchalance, the violence displayed out there for the world. Most of the time it's her, and well those other times, it feels like a false advertisement.

She's becoming much distorted.

You know, she keeps the guard up always, wrapped in a sense of unremitting confident. But day after day the armor she hides behind becomes more and more chipped and sometimes, in an intermittent moment alone in her room where she wraps the darkness around her just as tightly as the old and stained comforter, she lets the armor drop to the ground with a deafening clunk and she becomes oh so fucking vulnerable. Maybe for thirty seconds, or maybe for a minute but never longer.

She must remain unbreakable at all times.

Yet her soul is a broken record and it's been playing the same damaged memories on loop, in this scattered and skipping tune since forever and ever started years ago.

Alex Meyers stood there, staring at Holly Puckett and his little girl and then he walked through the door and away from them; far, far away from them without even a flinch. He just left her there with that cracked out woman who would later become so disgustingly empty inside that the blonde couldn't even bare to really look her in the eyes anymore, fearing that the hollowness there would somehow seep into her.

She's sure it's already happened though.

She feels much distorted.


	5. Caution

**Title:** Caution

**Pairing:** Sam/Freddie, Carly/Freddie

**Summary:** This was inspired by **champagnescene's** stoplight series which you can find on livejournal at her journal by the same name. Hopefully she posts it to FF so it can wash over people like it did me.

**Word count:** 328

//

Swiftly go the days.

They're all bleeding and blending together into a magnificent swirl of apathy and boredom.

It's dark out now and always. An overwhelming pitch black without her spark flaring up a violent storm of color and beauty. It's been weeks without those certain flashes of attitude giving the illusion of life to the dead winter wrapping so tightly around Seattle.

Caution, staggering cliff of self loathing and regret up ahead.

Please slow down.

Her absence is felt in its entirety buzzing through his bones, a constant hum of discontentment; of being incomplete.

He wanted to go looking for her the second they found out that she had come home, grabbed what little stuff she called her own and got the hell out of dodge but he didn't.

He just fucking let her go.

And the reason sat two desks away, strands of brown framing her beautiful face while she worked so diligently to take notes and pretend that their world hadn't been ripped apart at the seams; each fray burned down to nothing. It's the end of the world as we know it, and no, he doesn't feel fine. Because she's gone and he has no misgivings on whether or not she's coming back.

There is never any going back; it's just not her style.

She probably ran every stoplight on her way out of town.


	6. Rule

**Title:** One Basic Rule

**Pairings:** Carly/Sam

**Summary:** Behind the gym.

**Word count:** 492

//

Sam Puckett follows one basic rule in life; a guideline that structures every single thing she's ever done or action (crime) she's ever committed.

It's pretty simple too.

_Take what you want, the consequences be damned._

Taking that into consideration, it might be easier (for an outsider who could be looking in on the scene currently unfolding behind the gym) to understand what exactly was transpiring. Which was Carly jammed up against the brick of the wall, eyes open wide in shock while Sam, who was flush against her brunette best friend, was harshly pressing their lips together in an outburst of passion and recklessness that was purely her to the point that it should be trademarked.

She'd mull that over at a later date.

After forever and a half, the blonde pulls away annoyed at her friend's lack of responsiveness.

"Carls, what the hell?"

Sam's voice hitting the cold, thick air around them breaks the trance wrapped like a second skin to Carly and the girl blinks.

Then blinks again, hard.

"You kissed me."

It's said in a mixture of wonder and distress, and no one moves. Sam still has one hard planted firmly against the wall to the left of Carly's head and the other one resting just as secure to the brunette's hip, her thumb digging into the sliver of skin exposed.

Silence and a whole lot of staring.

And then.

Sam laughs and it's warm and bursting, projected from the back of her throat. It throws off Carly who understands the weight of the situation her best friend has just put them in and she's mostly confused but before she can say anything, Sam is back for seconds and kissing her fully on the lips.

_Take what you want,_

It only takes a moment for Carly to push her reservations to the side and kiss her best friend back, hands becoming tangled in the golden strands of Sam's hair.

_the consequences be damned._

It's a simple and effective rule which the misfit girl lives by because even though more times than not there is a price and punishment for her actions, every once and a while everything works out and she reaps the rewards.

When Carly quietly moans into her mouth, submitting to her tongue's request for entry, it's clear that even though most people don't see it, there is a method to Sam Puckett's mayhem.


	7. Frozen

**Title:** Frozen

**Pairings:** Wendy/Freddie

**Summary:** Study date

**Word count:** 423

//

He's not quite sure how it got to this point because when Wendy came over, he's pretty sure the only intent either of them had was to study chapters three through six for the American History exam on Thursday and yet, here they are, limbs entangled and tongue's battling for dominance while they lay on his bed, textbooks laid out forgotten on his desk and floor.

Kissing Wendy is inherently different from kissing Carly and Sam. And yes, he's kissed both of them before, singular points on the timeline of his life.

(They have a very incestuous little group.)

She's almost a comfortable mixture of the two, he thinks. Her touch an imitation of Carly's gentleness as she softly treads her fingers through his hair but the way she pins him to the bed, making their position inescapable as she nips at his bottom lip could come right out of Sam's playbook.

Speaking of.

"You have to be shitting me."

She freezes, he freezes.

They're frozen in a very compromising situation.

"F-freddie?"

Carly's voice melts the ice and frost away, letting Wendy slowly sit up and back, looking over at the two girls and then to Freddie. It looks like she wants to say something but then thinks better of it so instead she gives a subtle pat to the brunette male's leg before quickly getting up and grabbing her textbook off the ground. She had to push her way through the girls, Sam glaring and Carly's gaze fixed to the floor.

Wendy turned around just before she got to the door (Freddie thanked whatever mystical force filled the world that his mom had to work a double at the hospital and wasn't here to see her son having three teenage girls in his bedroom) and mouthed _'call me'_ before disappearing.

Alone now with his two best friends, the fear set in, resting heavy like cement in his stomach and it only gets worse when Sam walks to the door, closes it and locks it before turning back around, starting at; in and through him.

"Looks like we have to have a little talk, Fredward."


	8. Scene

**Title:** Cause A Scene

**Pairings:** Sam/Freddie

**Summary:** This was a ficlet mix thing. The link to download the file with all these songs is in my profile if you ever feel the need.

**Word count:** 670

//

**Manchester Orchestra - I was a book, torn.  
**_In the night I'm disappointed with your choice  
As I'm right outside your door  
And my face is on the floor  
And you left me on the darker side of town  
Alone all by myself, no shadow spoken tongues  
Faintly familiar ones  
And they bled the truth  
And they screamed aloud that you  
were a liar. Yes a liar.  
Well you took advantage of me yet again  
Or so they said  
And I'd hang the moon for you.  
And I'd save the world for you_

He always loved Carly but always feels a lot less like _forever_ than he thinks it should, standing there with his forehead resting against the mahogany of his apartment door, taking in steady breaths with eyes closed tight.

His fists are balled up with frustration and pressed firmly against his thighs while he tries to figure out what inside him shifted around to cause all these sick and unnatural pangs of attraction towards _her_ because if he can figure it out, he'll be able to fix the break; this wound bleeding out all kinds of want and need for Sam Puckett.

//

**Brand New - Tautou**  
_I'm sinking like a stone in the sea.  
I'm burning like a bridge for your body._

At first her touch is light and subtle —the complete opposite of everything that makes her who she is but it doesn't last long and before he knows what's happening, her fingers curl around the back of his neck and with force brings his face towards her, causing their lips to meet in an intense collision.

Somewhere soon after that point, it becomes too hard to focus; keep his thoughts in order and his wits about him and oddly enough, he can't really bring himself to care. He just submits to her, like with everything else in their life and blissfully and incoherently follows her lead.

//

**Motion City Soundtrack - Feels Like Rain**_  
We love that game, but we never play  
'cause we will lose, and we wanna stay  
the way we are, the way we've been for far too long._

They're currently in a showdown right now, they've been fighting all week (about what he's not really sure, he can't really remember but he knows she over stepped her boundaries—that invisible line) and they haven't made any headway towards a solution. Normally Freddie would just apologizes and be the bigger person but he's so tired of that.

Just once he wants to be immature and petty and get his way, why should she always win. She glares and he looks unimpressed. She growls and he takes a step (a small one) back but doesn't relent and forgive and forget. Not this time.

//

**Bright Eyes - The Movement of a Hand**_  
And the road has made a vacuum where our voices used to be.  
And you lay your head onto my shoulder, pour like water over me.  
So if I just exist for the next ten minutes of this drive that would be fine.  
And all these trees that line this curb would be rejoicing and alive.  
Soon all the joy that pours from everything makes fountains of your eyes  
because you finally understand the movement of a hand waving good-bye. _

The visit was short, only three days but he takes what he gets which is never enough and smiles like a false advertisement. He's driving her back to the airport, hands wrapped severely to the steering wheel and eyes holding to the trail of yellow lines leading them on. Her head is on his shoulder, unruly blonde curls spilling over and sending the scent of apples his way.

Neither has said anything for the longest time but words only complicate the simplicity of what they have; of what this is. Her hand finds his thigh and gives it a strong squeeze and it's never enough but he takes what he gets.

//

**Sunny Day Real Estate - Sometimes**  
_Sometimes  
I can't lay down  
My past  
Sometimes  
I'm too blind to see  
You laughing at me  
Although you hit me hard  
I come back_

She hasn't called in two weeks and he can feel the walls of his apartment closing in around him while he paces the confines of the room. This isn't the first red flag and it's not going to be the last.

Russet eyes stare at where his cell phone rests on his desk before shaking his head and he goes back to pacing and wrestling with this feeling that he's losing her; falling, and slipping and evaporating away from him and he is powerless to stop it. Suddenly, the phone starts vibrating and he runs to it like a fool, frantically reading her short text message, so much doom wrapped in so few words.

_I'm in town._

_//  
_

**Alkaline Trio - Live Fast, Die Young**_  
So live young, die fast  
No one will last  
So sit back and relax  
Enjoy the crash  
You're fading to black and you're gone  
Live young, die fast  
Die fast_

It's over and god damn does it hurt. He's sitting on a bench in the middle of the local park and he's looking out at nothing in hopes that the emptiness around him would seep in and void out the pain for just one second.

He knew it wouldn't last and that he was just prolonging the inevitable but he wanted to keep her all to himself for as long as he could before she got away because let's be honest here, she was always going to get away. Head dunks down and hands run through brown strands, probably making them stand up while he takes one deep breath and releases it and maybe her along with it.

**END.**


	9. Closer

**Title: **Shifts in Gravity

**Pairings: **Sam/Freddie

**Summary: **Just arrived in London.

**Word count: **640

/

Stepping out of the airport and into the crisp, chilled air of London; he watches the faint hue of red instantly start to flush over her milky white skin- mostly spreading across her cheeks and on the shell of her ears. He studies her look of fervent, and very much inherent, excitement.

Her eyes are bright, and blue, and always roaming.

"Dude, so glad to be off that freaking plane." Sam pauses for a moment, sparing him a glance before attempting to hail a taxi. "Being trapped with you in a tin can for nine hours was like one of my worst nightmares come to life."

He shakes his head because in all the years he's known her, it's become an automatic response; it's instinct. "I'm still surprised they let you through customs with the amount of hidden weaponry they found on your person. If I hadn't dragged you to the airport four hours in advance, we'd have probably missed our flight."

"Hey, when a girl is leaving the country- she needs to make sure she can protect herself in case of whatever. It was just plan B."

"What was plan A?" He asks with an arching brow and a tone suggesting he's aware that he isn't going to like her answer.

She grins wide; white teeth blinding despite her lacking relationship with a dentist.

"Using your body as a meat shield."

His plan had been to spend the summer abroad, visiting famous landmarks and as many museums as he could before college started in the fall.

Her plan had been to take a year off and backpack through Europe. It was either to lose herself or find herself; something contrived like that.

Sam's reasoning was, of course, left vague.

"Glad you're prepared." He intoned ironically. "But you do know that I'm only going to be around for the next two months, right?"

"Hence plan B and the weapons." She dismisses with practiced nonchalance, even more causal about the way she grips his arm, nails digging into the rough material of his coat after he tosses their bags in the trunk.

She pulls him to the side and then pushes him into the backseat of the taxi because it's always a pull and push sort of deal with her.

You get use to the shifts in gravity after awhile.

The inside of the car is warm and he's thankful for the heat pumping out of the vents. Freddie leans into the door on his side when they start moving, russet eyes watching the city landscape pass with a distracted focus about him.

To be honest, he's still not entirely sure how they came to the agreement that they would travel together while overseas. He remembered them sitting in Groovy Smootie; her making comments about his dedication in stalking her and how he was willing to follow her out of the country and him countering with pity for whatever hapless soul decided to pick her up while she was hitchhiking.

Some point after that, it was just decided.

Just like that.

"Benson." He reallocated his gaze to the blonde girl beside him as she spoke. "I think the dude wants you to stop drooling all over his window."

"I'm wasn't- I'm not drooling." Freddie returns with light contempt, fighting the urge to wipe at his mouth in spite of everything.

"Tell that to your wide open mouth a second ago. I mean geez, more water in here than the ocean we just flew over."

Instinct tells him to shake his head, so he does before going back to staring out the window as she starts in on something about legal drinking age and finding a pub.

And he doesn't even show reaction when she's all of a sudden leaning into his side, using his shoulder as a pillow. The kind you give a few punches to, to soften up.

Just another shift in gravity.


End file.
